My eyes have been swollen and raw since yesterday.My hair’s a tangled mess.The floor’s littered with a half-rotten fruit on a plate, a pizza box gaping with scraps inside, and empty beer cans scattered everywhere.
My phone rings, the distinctive tone only one person has.Laird.I pick up with a weak little “hey.”
“Hey, baby.How you holding up?”
I scanned the chaos in my room.“Pretty good.”
“Good.Okay.Listen, I know you didn’t mean to lie to me about Alan.I know he pushed you to keep quiet about that ad.”His voice comes low, tight, like he’s holding back pure rage.
“Wait, you actually watched the ad?Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t?”My voice spikes, breath snagging in my chest, because God, I can’t handle another betrayal right now.
“Yeah, I know I promised, but come on, everyone at the office had seen it already.They shoved it in my face, asking if I broke up with you.”His tone is fast, impatient, like he hates even saying it.
“Oh…” So it doesn’t matter now.He’s still calling me, so I guess that’s a win.No silent treatment this time.
“I’m sorry, Laird.I knew you’d be pissed, but you know I hated the ad too.And don’t listen to them.You’re my only boyfriend and I didn’t do a thing with Alan,” I say, scrambling to defend myself.
After the ad dropped, fans spun it into wild theories that Alan and I were dating.All those old posts where I never tagged Laird’s account finally made sense to them.But none of it was true, it was all just garbage.
He stays quiet a beat, then exhales hard.“Yeah, I get it.Let ’em say what they want.We’re the only ones who know the truth.”
He actually gets it?Of course he does.He trusts me.I should’ve never doubted him in the first place.My breath releases in relief.“Thanks, babe.”Tears prick again, burning hot.
“By the way,” his voice suddenly sharpens, “I got what I needed.I know who Alan really is now.”
His words sound ragged, almost breathless, and my brain doesn’t even work fast enough to take them in.
“Ugh, you mean his thing with Amy?Seriously, is that still important?Because honestly, I don’t give a damn anymore,” I mutter, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it.
“You need to care.You need to know why he’s been pulling all this shit on us.Meet me at Alan’s office—we’re making him confess.We’ll break him until he admits it.”
“But—”
“I gotta ride now.Just meet me there, okay?”
“Okay.”
He hangs up, and I just stare at his profile picture glowing on my phone screen, thinking how lucky I am to have a guy like him.He’s someone who doesn’t just throw sweet promises but actually fights to protect me, proving again and again he means it.
Whatever Alan’s reason is, whatever Amy means to him, it doesn’t matter.He wrecked my career, yeah, but he’s not touching what I have with Laird, and that’s what counts.That’s what I should be holding onto.
So why the hell am I still gutted about my career going up in flames?Laird doesn’t care if I’m a model or just some ordinary girl, but without career I feel like nothing.Like I’ve lost the only thing that made me confident, and I hate that.Though I keep telling myself this is supposed to be my passion.
My phone buzzes again, a new message, Alan’s name lighting up.My eyes roll.Two days of silence and now this?Yesterday he only texted once, telling me not to leave the apartment.Now he’s back with a picture.
Alan:
Help me.Laird is going to kill me.
My brows knit.A screenshot follows, and yeah, it’s Laird’s threat staring me in the face.We were gonna pressure Alan to stop his crap, but murder and torture?That can’t be real.Right?
I bite my lip, think for a second, then shake Jessy awake until he groans and blinks at me.“Jessy, wake up!Laird figured out who Alan is.He wants us at Alan’s office now.”
“What?”He rubs at his neck, his face scrunched like he can’t process it.
“Can you drive?We gotta go now, before Laird loses it on him.”
The mood shifts in a heartbeat.It’s full emergency mode now; only Jessy can get me there quickly.I throw on a black jacket over the same jeans, grab my little sling bag, while Jessy splashes water on his face and snatches up the car keys.
